


One For Sam

by Anne_Fairchild



Series: Still Waters [3]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Child Death, Childhood trauma/implied abuse, Emotional Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: A repressed memory from his childhood confronts Phil Wilkinson in a current case. Help comes from unexpected as well as expected sources.





	One For Sam

Sidney sometimes found himself getting just the slightest bit bored and restless when Geordie had no cases they could chew on over a pint and a game or two of backgammon, and he would have been glad to hear of a new one to sink his teeth into. The disappearance of a six year old child, however, was any village’s worst nightmare and he couldn’t possibly get any enjoyment from it.

Wendy Kilbride had last been seen by her classmates on her way home from school, and had then simply vanished. The family, a large working class brood, lived just outside of town. The father was a rough man with a quick temper. He kept to himself and kept the family mostly out of the village; they did not come to the church. Mrs Kilbride was seldom seen outside the home. She would have little time for anything but looking after seven children or enduring her pregnancies.

Word from their nearest neighbors and the teachers at the village school was that the children were poorly cared for. They sometimes came to school hungry, dirty, or sporting bruises. The child welfare agencies were overworked, and no one wanted to make an enemy of Mr. Kilbride in any case, so nothing much had ever been done about people’s suspicions until Wendy disappeared. Sidney hadn’t even known about the family or their situation or he would have tried to do something about food and clothes at least. He wondered if Mrs C knew, but he hadn’t asked her. Even she might not want to be on the bad side of Kilbride.

The entire family had been questioned, from the parents down to the four year old youngest, and nothing of any worth could be gotten out of them. Wendy, they said, had never made it home that day. It was clear though, Geordie told Sidney, that the lot of them were terrified of the head of the household. If they weren’t beaten enough physically, they were also cowed in spirit. So the fact that the older children claimed not to have been told to look out for her, or to wonder where she was, certainly rang false.

And if that wasn’t enough of a problem, his sergeant was behaving strangely. He’d come close to punching out Kilbride on one of their visits, and he insisted the man knew what had happened, yet he offered no evidence or proof other than the man ‘must have’ done it. That was all very well and Geordie privately agreed he must know something, but you had to do your job without falling apart or beating up the suspects - conveniently forgetting the teacher he’d beaten up several months ago when a boy had been believed kidnapped. It wasn’t like Wilkinson, and it was a puzzle Geordie didn’t need right now.

They’d actually been getting on, too, and Geordie had been complimentary about his case efforts - a far cry from the Christmas ball when he’d maliciously told Cathy about Geordie and Margaret, and Geordie had given him a black eye. Now that things had settled down a bit and Cathy had mostly forgiven him, he’d had time to think and he realized that he’d been unfair to Phil back then, wrapped up in his own misdeeds. He’d done what he could since then to work fairly with the man and help him learn. But this - he didn’t know what it was, only that Phil seemed to be more upset about the Kilbride girl by the day. Geordie wanted to chalk it up to the man not having had to deal with a case like this before - it was hard on all of them - but gut instinct told him it was more.

For his part, Sidney knew no more about what might be troubling Phil than Geordie did. They saw each other every couple of weeks when police caseload permitted, but hadn’t seen each other since the case began and hadn’t talked much either. Since Geordie had mentioned Phil’s preoccupation, however, Sidney was now worried too. He didn’t want to ask Phil anything over the phone, so he let it go reluctantly, intending to make a point of asking the next time they were together. He would try to make it soon, case or no case.

Sidney had been just a little afraid, early on in their relationship, that Phil might give them away, but he’d done very well. He seemed able to keep his job separate from his personal life in a way that Sidney by virtue of his occupation could not, and Geordie, with a family, had to.

On a Tuesday, Geordie, Phil and a small specialist team from London brought dogs to the Kilbride place - specially trained cadaver dogs. It was at Phil’s urging, but Geordie agreed with him; it was the next logical step since no one believed Mr or Mrs Kilbride knew as little as they claimed, even if they couldn’t outright accuse them of murder.

They started at one corner of the property and went through methodically. Mr. Kilbride had to be physically restrained to keep him out of their way, ranting and shouting about lawsuits. Mrs. Kilbride mostly just cried - and kept herself far away from her husband. The children were to be detained after school or given over to a police matron to be minded for the afternoon.

Geordie had asked Sidney to be there “just in case” for Mrs. Kilbride. If she suspected, maybe she didn’t actually know, at that.

Sidney became aware that Phil was avoiding his eye, as well as avoiding getting close enough to have a conversation with him, something he hadn’t done with other cases. Something was definitely bothering him.

Oddly, now that the dogs were going over the property, Phil was not with them or on their heels; he’d gone very quiet and Geordie thought he looked decidedly peaked. He was beginning to have an idea of what might be bothering his sergeant, and he greatly hoped he was wrong.

After about half an hour, the dogs showed some interest at the far end of the property, near an old, broken-down fence. Geordie got a very bad feeling indeed when he basically had to order Phil to come with him. He indicated silently to Sidney that he should come too.

The handlers called their dogs back after boundaries were marked out based on their reactions, and Geordie directed his men to dig…very carefully. No one was anxious to dig, but they all knew it had to be done.

“Stop!” Phil stepped in front of one of the digging men, staying his shovel. The hint of a pale green jumper could be seen emerging from the soil. Geordie motioned for the men to stop.

Phil dropped to his knees in the dirt and began, very carefully, to uncover the jumper inch by inch. When it became clear there was a small hand visible emerging from a sleeve he stopped. Sidney made to move beside him, but Geordie motioned for him to stay where he was. Geordie himself wanted to take over and spare him, but he had to allow this, it was Wilkinson’s job and he had to be given at least the opportunity to do it.

Reverently, the detective uncovered the girl. Unlike the wishful fairy-stories of detective novelists, this child’s face did not look peaceful, or as if she was “merely sleeping,” she looked as terrified in death as she had in her last moments. His hands became fists, slammed hard against his thighs. His face had lost any color, his mouth a thin pale line.

Phil had just reached out to attempt to pick her up when Kilbride broke free of the constables guarding him and made to run. He picked up a shovel as a weapon, and when he was cut off, raised the shovel and ran straight at Geordie and Sidney.

Phil saw the movements out of the corner of his eye and heard the commotion. He straightened up, and with a harsh roar of pain charged, defenseless, straight at the man. His fury was so great it gave him an inhuman strength for just as long as he needed it.

Both the man and the shovel went flying. Phil dropped down over Kilbride, who’d landed on his back, and began pummeling him, body and face, in rage. Geordie allowed it to go on for a moment before he walked over and put both hands on Phil’s shoulders, pulling him away without actually giving the appearance of doing so to the rest of the observers.

“Come on, lad. He isn’t worth it. Come on, now.” Geordie’s voice was full of an understanding that Sidney realized he was still missing.

Phil stopped and stood up, weaving a little. He turned around and saw the girl’s still little body - and in seconds was violently sick in the grass, retching miserably. Geordie motioned to Sidney then, and they both went to him.

Geordie kept an arm around him until Phil finally stopped even his awkward dry heaving and sank to his knees in the grass, shaking. He barked out instructions for the constables to haul Kilbride down to the station and lock him up pending further orders.

“Sidney, I have to take the time to deal with this. Stay with him until I get back. Don’t question him, just sit with him. Trust me on this,” he urged, standing and moving in the direction of the house and the dog handlers.

Phil didn’t seem to notice Geordie was gone, or that the multitude of voices in the background grew less. His face was carefully blank now. He accepted Sidney’s arm around him, and his care, but he said nothing - as if, Sidney thought, he was afraid to for fear of losing control again. Sidney could do nothing out here but hold his hand. He sat, hunched over and rocking slightly, until Geordie returned just as it was getting dark.

When Geordie squatted beside him, Phil turned to him.

“I’m sorry, Guv. I know I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry. Even when I knew, I couldn’t - Sorry,” he repeated. Geordie put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, sergeant. I’m not angry with you. I’m not angry at all, so just forget that, right?”

Phil’s head bent, and Sidney heard him sniff loudly a couple of times.

“Sidney, quick - handkerchief.” Geordie pushed Phil back onto the grass and Sidney could see blood trickling from his nose. He grabbed his handkerchief out of his coat and passed it to Geordie, who pressed it under Phil’s nose and upper lip.

“When you calm yourself, it’ll pass. Lie still, and breathe slow.” He held the handkerchief for several minutes, until no more bright red blood appeared.

Sidney was surprised at the gentleness in Geordie’s voice, as if he were speaking to a child; his ‘dad’ voice, he supposed. He found it oddly touching.

“We need to get you home now.”

Geordie motioned to him, and the two of them raised Phil up, standing on each side of him. Phil turned in the direction of the child, who had been taken away some time ago.

“She’s gone, lad. I know you wanted to take her up, but it’s better not. She’ll be at peace now, thanks to you,” Geordie told him. Phil blinked at the words, and then suddenly sank into trance mode again. They walked back to the car and put him in the passenger seat usually occupied by Geordie. Before he got into the back, Sidney could take it no longer.

“Geordie, what is it - what am I not seeing - not understanding?” he demanded. Geordie looked at him for a moment in surprise.

“Christ, Sidney, do you really not know? Have you lived that sheltered a life?” he responded, a bit exasperated after a very long, ugly day.

“Geordie - “

“Think a minute, Sidney. Think. For God’s sake!” Geordie told him. “The man has lost a child just like this - _in the same circumstances, Sidney_! A brother or sister, cousin, best friend - someone. He’s been living it all over again these past weeks, and today was his worst nightmare come true. I had an idea, but today - it was too late by the time I was sure. And thank God for his reaction, or one of us might be in hospital right now, or worse. He wanted to kill that man with his bare hands, and it’s too bad,” Geordie told Sidney, “that I had to stop him doing it.”

“God.”

“I don’t think He enters into this in a positive way, Sidney. And I don’t think he thinks so either,” Geordie indicate Phil. “Best not be telling him how it’s God’s will and all any time soon.” Stung by Geordie’s words, Sidney couldn’t deny the truth of them.

“We need to get him home and stay with him a bit, make sure he’s all right. Poor bastard, twice over,” Geordie sighed.

They got in the car and drove back to Cambridge, stopping on the way for a bottle of Scotch. Sidney wasn’t happy that they were taking Phil back to his own flat, he knew how lonely it made him feel staying there. He’d encouraged Phil to move to a new place now that his wife was gone, but he kept saying he hadn’t had time, and if he had time, he’d rather spend it with Sidney than looking for another flat, so that had been that, so far.

Geordie took off his suit coat, sat him in a chair and turned on the gas fire. He called Cathy to tell her he’d be home late. Sidney called the vicarage to let Leonard know he might not be home at all that night; he already knew he wouldn’t be. It was difficult for him to have any time alone with Phil without giving rise to gossip or speculation, even from Leonard or Mrs C. This terrible event would at least give them that.

Geordie poured the Scotch into paper cups he’d bought. He put one in Phil’s hand and waited until he’d downed it, then poured him another before he drank his own.

“When I think of my little ones, I can’t imagine it. What could drive a man to do a thing like that? What kind of demons can there be in you to kill your own child?” Geordie wondered aloud.

“Does it matter?” Phil suddenly spoke into the room, staring at the fire. “Whatever the reason - drink, anger, illness, just plain meanness - they do it. Nothing stops them unless it’s somebody bigger and meaner than they are. They prey on the helpless because they’re cowards.” His left hand gripped the arm of the chair tightly. “What good does understanding do?”

“Maybe, if we understand what drives someone to that,” Sidney offered, “we can stop it in time.”

“Or not.” Phil reached for the bottle.

“It’s why we do what we do, remember?” Geordie reminded him. “We can never catch them all - murderers, thieves, abusers - but even catching some of them is why we’re here. If we don’t try, who will?

“Where were we when that little girl was terrorized? Where was anybody?” He drank deeply.

“And the other children, they’re too scared to tell anyone,” Geordie led carefully, with a shush-warning look at Sidney.

Phil nodded. “Too scared, too little. Afraid for their mum or their sisters or brothers. They’re all-powerful, these monsters.”

“You did your best.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I was too afraid,” Phil admitted, clearly not referring to the current case. “But what could I have done except get my head broken? And then there wouldn’t have been anyone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Geordie said softly. “You learn to deal with the pain, and you learn to understand it’s not your fault, but it takes time. Maybe, most of a lifetime. It won’t always hurt like this, but every reminder rips the sore open again and that sore will always be with you,” he acknowledged, a hint of faraway pain behind his blue eyes.

“Guv - “

“The past is the past, and the tale is yours to tell, or not tell,” Geordie told him, with a look to Sidney. _“Don’t push him,” it said, “and don’t ever bloody ask me.”_

“I’ll be all right tomorrow.”

“I know you will,” Geordie assured him, “because you’re a tough one - and a good copper,” he told Phil, “and you won’t let it beat you.” Phil rewarded him with a slight smile, and a nod of thanks.

“I have to leave you in Sidney’s capable hands,” Geordie told him, standing, “and get home to my family and give ‘em all an extra kiss tonight.” He looked bone weary, and terribly sad. Phil gave him a nod.

“Give Cathy and the kids a hug for me, too,” Sidney told him. He walked with Geordie to the door.

“Keep an eye on him. Just be here. If he wants to tell you, he will, but don’t push him - he’s still on the edge,” Geordie warned. “And it’s bloody hard to take.”

Sidney opened his mouth to say something, but Geordie had the ‘none of your business so don’t ask’ look on his face again, so he just rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder for a moment before he left.

At least Geordie had someone to go home to. Cathy and the kids kept him grounded, but Phil didn’t have that. Phil only had him, and this was not a subject Sidney had personal experience with, or knew all that much about. While it pained him to realize what it meant that Geordie appeared to understand Phil’s pain all too well, he had to be grateful that Geordie had known what to do and how to handle this - at least, up to this point. Now it was up to him, and what if he didn’t get it right?

“How about some tea with that whisky?” he suggested. He knew Phil needed the mind-numbing effects of the alcohol tonight, but God knew when he’d last had any nourishment, the way this case had been consuming him.

“Yes - thanks.” The more he spoke in single words and fragments, the more Sidney knew that Phil was putting all his effort into not breaking down, just trying to function and to give the appearance of being all right. Sidney had seen early on in their relationship that the more at ease he was, the more he talked. It had become a sign of his trust in Sidney when he nattered on sometimes in the aftermath of their lovemaking, going on about mundane things like football or a bet at the station house.

Sidney went into the kitchen, put the kettle on and quickly found the tea - there wasn’t a lot else in Phil’s cupboards. He was very liberal with the sugar and the tea, trying to provide both fuel and energy.

When he returned, he placed the mug in Phil’s hands, folding them around the warmth.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, feeling helpless.

“No. Just - can you stay awhile?”

“I’m staying the night, because for once, no one could possibly question the need.”

“I know I’m always on about that,” Phil muttered.

“I hope you don’t think it’s something I don’t want as well, because I do,” Sidney told him, “but I’m accountable in a way that you’re not. Both Leonard and Mrs C would ask questions. And they would find a way to let Geordie know, if they thought I was sneaking off to be with a woman. And neither of us wants that.”

“I know. I just was never sure if you’d really want - “

“Yes. Of course,” Sidney assured him. “And I’m here now, and staying.”

As he leaned over to kiss Phil on the forehead, Sidney realized that he loved him. He wasn’t ‘in love’ with him, the way he’d been in love with Amanda, but in only a few months he’d already come to love the man. It didn’t matter what he didn’t know, he loved the man he knew. And if or when Phil found someone else, all his high-minded talk about not minding would be bollocks.

“What do you want?” he asked. “To talk? To sleep? I know you’re hurting, and I don’t know what to do for you,” he sighed.

Phil smiled bleakly up at him.

“There’s nothing anyone can _do_ , Sidney. Like the guv said, it’s in the past. I have to remember that. But if I do remember it, I have to…remember.” His voice shook slightly.

“You don’t have to tell me, Phil, and I won’t ask you. That’s a promise.”

“I can’t tell you now. I don’t have the strength.”

“If you mean physical strength, I understand. But if you mean anything else - what you did today was very brave,” Sidney told him. “Geordie certainly thought so - and so do I.”

“Yeh - the Guv came through.” Phil smiled slightly.

“Better than me. I would have made a mess of being there if it wasn’t for him.”

“No, I would have. If you’d said something to me then, I don’t think I could have held it together even as much as I did,” Phil admitted. “He knew that, even if he didn’t know why exactly.”

He reached out and carefully set the empty tea mug on a table. Only a moment later, without warning, he began to shake so hard Sidney was half afraid he was having a seizure, or that his agitation would bring on another nosebleed.

“Come on, let’s get to bed,” Sidney told him firmly, grasping him by the shoulders and urging him to stand. He led the shivering man into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed, quickly removing mud-caked shoes, socks, shirt and trousers. He got Phil under the blankets and quickly stripped off his own clothes down to his underwear, slipping under the covers beside him.

He pulled Phil into his arms and hugged him as tightly as he dared, stroking his hair, murmuring into the ear he softly kissed. “It’s all right, I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered. Phil buried his face in Sidney’s neck, mouth open, breath coming in panting gasps. Sidney could literally feel Phil’s racing heart against his skin.

“Shhhh. Shhhhh now,” he begged, appalled by what his buried grief was doing to Phil. Deeply buried, he might have said, but it hadn’t been very far beneath the surface if one knew what to look for, as Geordie had.

It was a long time before the shivering lessened and Phil was at last relaxed against him, if not asleep. He moved a little now and then, nestling into Sidney contentedly.

“Try and get some sleep,” Sidney coaxed. Phil muttered something unintelligible and held tight to Sidney’s vest. Sidney rubbed his neck and shoulder, caressing, until Phil’s fingers loosened, and finally slipped to fall between them.

                                                                         ***

It was still dark when Sidney woke. Phil was lying beside him, his body curled away from Sidney. He was crying, almost silently. It was difficult to listen to, this quiet sorrow so different from the raging grief that had earlier consumed him. Sidney lay in the darkness digging his nails into his palms to keep from touching Phil. It was terribly sad, but it was normal and natural and Sidney didn’t want to stop it prematurely. He didn’t want Phil to try and shut it off because of him.

When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he lightly touched a palm to Phil’s back before moving closer to put an arm over him, hugging gently.

“He was only eight. Eight years old. Funny and cheeky and my best friend.” Phil’s voice was hoarse with tears. “My cousin Sam. It’s been almost 20 years and it hurts like it was yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry, Phil,” Sidney murmured. “I wish I could take the hurt away.”

“It means I remember him, though. I know what happened, how and why and all the ugliness after, but it can’t take away my memories of him,” Phil whispered fiercely. “He was like my brother and my best mate in one. We were always together, in some kind of mischief. Except that day. Not that day.”

Phil sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to Sidney.

“Sam accidentally broke a window at a neighbors; that’s all he did. But my uncle had been drinking and he’d been stiffed on a job the day before. He just…took it out on Sam. He said he never meant to really hurt him, just ‘teach him a lesson’. Don’t they all say that?”

“The police found his body several miles from the house, dumped in a field. He’d been strangled, they said, and there were bruises. They talked to all the families, the kids and all. I knew. I knew Sam’s father beat him sometimes and I knew he was afraid of him, but I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them!” Phil held his head in his hands.

“How old were you?” Sidney asked quietly.

“Nine.”

“Phil, you were as much a helpless, defenseless child as he was,” Sidney reminded him, “and you had a right to be afraid. Don’t go on blaming yourself for that.”

“Yeh, I was afraid, but not just of my uncle. My dad, his brother - he drank too, and they both had tempers. I thought - if my uncle could do that, maybe my dad could too. And if I made him angry, maybe he would. So I never said anything. But the police knew, just like I knew it had to be Kilbride. My uncle went to prison, but that wouldn’t bring Sam back. It changed everything for us. It took away my childhood. It’s why I wanted to be a copper,” Phil admitted.

“But today was one for Sam,” Sidney reminded him.

“Yeh.” Sidney felt as well as heard Phil’s sigh.

“After that, my dad tried to stop drinking so much. He never lifted a hand to any of us again, me or my sister, or Mum. It scared him. He knew it was in him, that rage and the craving for drink. I was still afraid of him for a long time - until I got tall enough to fight back, and more if need be.” Phil revealed. “But later, I started to understand how hard he tried to change. I respect him for that.”

Talked out now, Phil allowed Sidney to pull him down to lie beside him.

“I don’t have any great words of wisdom, and I won’t insult you with platitudes,” Sidney told him. “But I hope Geordie’s right and the hurt will fade through the years, now that you can make a difference. One thing I believe, Phil - Sam knows. He knows what you did, and how hard it was - and he’s as proud of you as we are.”

Phil lay his head on Sidney’s chest, his arm resting there. “Thanks, Sidney. For being here, and for…everything. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t found me that day in the storm. You rescued me.”

“The rescue,” Sidney told him softly, “was mutual. I hope you believe that, because it’s true.”

“I’m glad.” Phil sounded drowsy.

“So am I,” Sidney smiled, stroking the soft hairs on his arm. “Rest now.”

“Mmmmhh.” Sidney felt the soft exhalation of a sigh. He treasured the weight of Phil’s head resting against him.

Before he drifted off to sleep, Sidney sent up a prayer that whatever it was in Geordie’s past that had told him what to do today, he’d be at peace and no longer fear it. One for Sam, but also one for Geordie.

 


End file.
